


#9 Dream

by lennongirl



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bittersweet, Dream Sex, M/M, POV Second Person, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lennongirl/pseuds/lennongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years, Paul McCartney has nine dreams involving John Lennon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#9 Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Written in May 2009.

_So long ago_  
Was it in a dream, was it just a dream?  
I know, yes I know  
Seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me 

John Lennon - #9 Dream

 

**#1**

The first time Paul dreams of John, he's only known him for a few hours. 

The memory is still fresh and he is flustered with excitement when he returns from the fete in Woolton. He thinks it’s because of the music, the people, the getting introduced and playing together with somebody new. Playing _for_ somebody new. Seeing his talent recognised by somebody who _knows_. 

Paul is giddy and cheerful, and when he finally falls asleep, it’s from an exhaustion he never noticed.

~~~

_You are back at the fete, only this time, you're not standing in the crowd but on the stage. You're standing right up there, next to John. You’re both playing guitars, and you can hear other instruments, too, some drums and yet another guitar (what about the bass?, you think). The funny thing is, you can’t see anybody else on stage except for the two of you. Everything else behind you is blurred, all you can see is John besides you and the audience in front of you._

_They’re smiling at you, singing with you, clapping and dancing. Some are shouting, even. You don’t know why, you have no clue what this is all about, but it feels so damn good. You're excited, you feel a rush of adrenaline like you've never felt before._

_"Look at them," John says to you, "look at what we're doing to them. We're good."_

_“Yeah,” you say, more to yourself than to him. ”We really are.”_

_John winks and smiles at you, and you feel warm and safe. You can’t explain why. You don’t want to explain it. You just want to indulge in it, forever._

~~~

Paul awakes with a grin and a plan. He’ll stick to that Lennon lad, he’ll show him the right chords and they’ll be damn good.

 

 **#2**

Being a teenager, there are other things to be embarrassed about than to wank in a group. And really, Paul tells himself, it’s not as if they’re wanking each other or something. It’s just a silly group thing for young lads to do; nothing more. He knows others are doing the same. It’s some kind of competition. Who goes first? Who lasts longest? Who has the best idea of who to fantasise about? And who will be the one to ruin everything just for kicks?

Of course, most times, the answer to the latter question is John.

However, lately, things have changed. Paul begins to feel hotter during the group sessions than he does when he’s wanking in solitude. It’s the group experience, he tells himself over and over again, the fun they share, the rush. It’s got nothing to do with any of the lads, especially not with John. Paul is absolutely sure about that.

And he never thinks of John that way, at least not when he’s awake.

~~~

_You’re back at Nigel’s house in Woolton, and you know the scene. You take your place and wait for what’s going to happen next: The lights will dim and only then will you all get your dicks out and start working._

_The lights go out, so far, so good. You lean back, close your eyes and start to unzip. It’s become some kind of reflex lately._

_But something is wrong. There is a little light still shining; it’s haunting you behind your closed eyes, so you open them to see what causes the disturbance._

_John is sitting on the chair closest to yours, as always, but you can see him. It’s as if he is lit by one single spotlight. You want to get up, see what this is all about, turn off that light, but you can’t move. You’re fixed and transfixed, and maybe you should just close your eyes again and get on with it, but damn, how could ever tear your eyes away from_ that _scene?_

_John’s trousers are wide open, and you can see his hand, his fingers, every single one of them, playing with his cock. He’s not fisting it, not yet, he’s more toying around, letting his fingers brush against it, touch it, tease it. Like an instrument, you think, and then: who is he teasing, really?_

_You’re pretty sure you’re staring by now._

_After what feels like a lifetime, his hands starts working in earnest, his fingers close around his cock – it’s beautiful, you admit to yourself – and he begins pumping it._

_You’re moaning in rhythm with his movements. You’re painfully hard, but you don’t dare to touch yourself, you allow nothing, not even your own erection, to distract you from watching._

_And then, John stops suddenly. You’re confused and look up – and meet his eyes._

_You want to talk, but you can’t. You want to look away, but you can’t. You want to close your eyes and just forget about it all, but you can’t._

_“It’s okay, Macca. It’s okay,” John says, and his voice is near, very near, and somehow, he has moved, with chair and all, and is now sitting so close to you, you not only hear the words, but also feel them. “Try it,” he says. “Come on.”_

_You reach over and touch his cock – tentatively, almost playful, just the way he did earlier. You hear him suck in his breath, and you add some more pressure. As response, you feel his hand closing around you._

_He’s enjoying it, and so are you. It feels natural, as if you never did anything else in your life than to give your best mate a good wanking and receive one in return._

~~~

Paul awakes to a set of wet sheets. This hasn’t happened for quite some time, and it certainly never happened because of a bloke. He gets up in a hurry and tries to get rid of the worst stains with some spit and a good rubbing. He’s all focused on the task, right now, he’d do anything to keep his mind off…

Whatever the fuck it was.

 

**#3**

Work, work, work. Write, write, write. And a moment to get high in between. Paul’s mind doesn’t stop spinning these days, and he doesn’t know whether it’s from the drugs or the deadline because of this silly movie and all the songs they still need to work and, well, fuck. He can’t even think straight anymore. Here goes nothing. 

John returns with a pot of tea and a pack of pot, and Paul decides that they worked hard enough for one day.

~~~

_You’re in a hotel room, and you’re sure you know it, but you can’t remember. John is lying on one of the beds, smoking and staring at the ceiling, a notepad lying beside him, his guitar place on the floor, next to his boots. You are lying on the other bed, in a very similar position, only minus notepad and cigarette._

_Judging from the fading daylight, it seems to be late afternoon, and judging from the scene, the two of have just stopped working._

_You’ve been here before. You have the strange feeling you know what’s going to happen. What was it? Where are you?_

_“Have you ever been in love?” John asks._

_“I guess so,” you say, mostly, because you’re not sure yourself._

_“Hm-mh,” is John’s response as he continues smoking in silence._

_This room…_

_John kills his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand, stretches and gets up._

_“Why?” You ask all of a sudden. “Haven’t you?”_

_He sits down on your bed and gives you a look you can’t read._

_“I’m supposed to be a father and a husband, what would my answer be?”_

_“The truth?”_

_“The truth.” He laughs, and it sounds bitter. “Some truths are better left untold.”_

_“Show me, then,” you say._

_You didn’t say that out loud, did you?_

_Apparently, you did, for John is giving you another look you haven’t seen on his face yet, only this one, you can read. It’s making you hold your breath and pray for him to do something, anything, just get this big chunk of tension out of this room._

_His shifts slightly and his fingers brush your thigh, it’s a touch both of you could still label random and meaningless. But it makes goosebumps appear on your skin._

_John notices them, too._

_“Are you scared?” is all he asks, and you shake your head._

_His kiss is soft and tender, and you’re not sure what you had expected, but it wasn’t like that. It’s slow and caressing and you want to give into it, so you do._

_John lays down beside you to have better access and with that, it all changes. You’re all lips and tongues and moans now, and finally,_ finally _, you can touch and taste and feel. His body is hot, his hands are moving and all you can think is; yes, I guess so._

~~~

Paul awakes with a moan still on his lips. He blinks and catches his breath when a pair of strong arms embraces him.

“Bad dream?” John asks behind him.

Paul smiles. “Nah,” he says and guides one of John’s hands to his groin.

“Ah, that kind of dream. Nice one, Macca. Was I in it?” John asks and slips his hand into Paul’s knickers.

“Aren’t you always?” 

“Mh. What was it about?” 

“You. Me. Our first time.”

“It’s been years. You still remember that?” John closes his hand around Paul’s cock and gives it a little squeeze. “All of it?” 

“Yeah. Of course. And it was so real… exactly the way it happened back then.”

“Tell me from the start,” John says, but when he squeezes Paul’s cock harder, Paul turns and kisses him, and the dream is forgotten.

 

 **#4**

It is a posh party in a posh hotel with lots of posh birds. There are so many of them, beautiful ones, Paul doesn’t know where to start. 

But a birds’ night it is, Paul has decided. Things have changed, he has changed, John has changed, Paul tells himself over and over again. They both knew they couldn’t carry on like that forever, right? They both knew they were just fooling around, right?

No matter how good it felt. No matter how right it felt. No matter that this tingling is still there, right there in his stomach.

Paul is going to pull it through this time. 

He finally decides to go for the blonde with the lush lips, because he can tell a promising blowjob if he sees one.

It’s easy to conquer her, and Paul leaves the party once he’s done with his sloppy wooing. It never takes much. He takes her to his posh room. A posh room he’s having all for his posh self. What a very convenient posh party, he thinks.

~~~

_You’re running along some corridor. All doors are black, except for that red one you can see gleaming in the distance. You run, faster, you have to reach that door now. Once you’ve arrived, you knock, urgently. Open it already, you think._

_John opens, and within seconds, you’re all over him. You push him back against the wall and start ripping his clothes apart. Buttons fly, cotton tears, because you need to feel his skin now._

_Or maybe you need something else of him? You drop to your knees, yank down his trousers and take in as much of his cock as you can._

_There. Right there. That’s where you belong._

_You suck and he moans, he’s messing with your hair, holding onto it, just like you are holding onto him. He’s fucking your mouth now, hard, and you want to make him come inside you so badly. You cup his balls with one hand, kneading them softly. You look up, because you want to watch him come apart._

_Because of you._

_And he does._

~~~

Paul awakes with an aching hard on. 

He rolls over onto the girl, waking her up by rubbing his erection against her thigh. 

“Again?” she asks eventually. Paul silences her with a kiss and can feel her giggling against his mouth. Somehow, it’s all wrong: her skin is too soft, the noises she makes are too feminine, and when she starts to whimper, he can’t stand it any longer.

That’s not it.

Ten minutes later, Paul is pounding against the door of John’s room. It takes a while until John answers, and there’s a small chance that somebody else might open their door first and see a messed up Beatle, hair all ruffled, shirt only halfway closed, making disturbing noises in the middle of the night. Paul doesn’t care about any of it and keeps on knocking.

John finally opens, wearing briefs only, all ready to shout and swear, but he stops dead in his tracks when he realises it’s Paul. John looks him up and down, his anger turning into amusement, then into lecherousness.

And just like that, it’s all understood between them.

“Alright,” is all John says before he walks back into the room. Paul follows him.

John’s had a bird, too, and now he’s pulling away the covers she’s lying under.

“Get up. Leave,” he commands in a tone that doesn’t leave much room for arguments. But the girl misses the clue.

“What? Why?” She tries to hold onto the covers, tries to hide her nakedness from Paul, who isn’t even looking. 

“Because we need to work.”

“Now? In the middle of the night? Are you serious?” The girl looks seriously confused.

“The muse strikes when the muse strikes.” John’s taking the piss out of her, and Paul wishes he’d just make her go.

“I don’t know what that means,” she tries.

John has enough of it. “It means get the fuck out because I say sod off, you cheap twat.”

Paul flinches inwardly, but he knows there is no other option. John once asked Paul on his opinion about sharing a bird, and Paul talked him out of it, arguing that maybe the two of them couldn’t keep their hands from each other while a girl was with them, and John wouldn’t want anybody to know, would he? The truth was, Paul didn’t want to share John, but he never told him that.

John strengthens his grip on the covers just as the girl loses hers, and she almost falls down from the bed. Angered and messed up, she quickly rises and starts searching around for her clothes.

“You’re a fucker, you know that?” She keeps on swearing and searching and grabbing random pieces of crumpled cloth. 

“Hurry,” John commands, takes her by the hands and drags her towards the door as soon as she’s gotten into her dress.

“You’re a lousy lay, John Lennon,” is what she screams while John pushes her out of the room.

“Right,” John answers and slams the door shut.

Paul chuckles. “You’re not a lousy lay, John Lennon.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Paul closes the gap between them with two large steps. “Show me again.”

 

 **#5**

Paul never thought he’d see the day when going to work would be a drag. When he’s on his way to the studio, he’s scared this day will never end, when he’s on his way back home, he hopes the next one won’t begin. There isn’t once thing in particular that makes him feel that way. It’s a culmination of too many things at once. The cold atmosphere at Twickenham. George’s bitchyness. John’s apathy. Ringo’s ridiculous attempts at harmony. Yoko. George Martin, even. And all these faceless people observing him all the time. 

Paul is sick and tired of being who he is and sometimes, he wonders if he ever knew himself at all.

~~~

_You’re in the studio. Again. This place is haunting you._

_“I hate you. I hate you, hate you, hate you,” you shout to nobody in particular._

_“Are you talking to me or to yourself?” John asks._

_“I wish I knew.”_

_“Well. Maybe it’s time to end this thing once and for all. We both know you tried often enough.”_

_You groan. “And wouldn’t that just be so very convenient for you? The easiest way out?”_

_“I never said it was easy.”_

_“That’s because you never say anything at all these days.” You have the strong urge to kick him, slap him, to hurt him, just to make him feel the same way you do._

_“You’re jealous,” he says._

_“What’s that got to do with any of it?”_

_“You’re jealous.”_

_“Fuck you, John! I thought you cared!”_

_“Fuck you, Macca. I thought you cared. But you were too scared of yourself, and well, now it’s too late.”_

_You want to say something, you want to make a witty remark, you want to shove it all right back at him, but you’re at a loss for words._

_And John starts laughing at you._

_“I’m done with this,” you say and turn away from him._

_But you can still hear him. And you can still feel the pain._

~~~

Paul awakes with the anger still boiling inside him. Later that day, he picks up a fight with John, just to show him what pain feels like.

He isn’t sure John cares.

 

**#6**

Paul hasn’t spoken to John in what feels like forever. Mostly, they only communicate via lawyers or lyrics, and neither of these options is pretty. Linda tries to talk Paul into calling John. “You know he won’t do it,” is what she says, and Paul knows she’s right. Yet he doesn’t dare to give it a try, and how could he ever make her understand? He’s not sure he understands it himself. 

And he’s too fucking scared John might simply refuse to talk to him at all. 

~~~

_Yoko is standing in front of you. Her face is free of any emotion, peaceful almost, and you don’t know what to say or do. So you just stand there in silence for a few moments, eyeing each other._

_“I give up,” she finally chirps. “He’s all yours.”_

_And with that, Yoko is gone._

_John appears, out of nowhere (how does he do that?, you ask yourself). He looks at you and shakes his head._

_“What?” you snap, being all ready for the attack that’s likely to come._

_“If you want something, go and get it,” John says._

_“I don’t understand.”_

_“It was never about her, you know.”_

_“What was? About whom? Yoko? John, if you’ve got something to tell me, just fucking say it.”_

_John sighs. “There’s no reason to be scared. I wouldn’t do that.”_

_You’re taken aback by this sudden turn. “Wha…how do you know?”_

_John just smiles at you._

~~~

Paul awakes slightly confused. The dream is still fresh in his memory, and he’s desperate to understand it, to get the meaning of it.

He stops pondering and calls John the next day.

 

**#7**

Paul isn’t sure if any of this was a good idea. It’s a surreal scene, yet, at the same time, it seems familiar. 

“Relax,” Linda whispers next to him. “Relax and enjoy.” 

She squeezes his hand and he wonders what he did to deserve her. But she’s right, he thinks and tells himself to relax.

“More tea?” Yoko asks and Paul nods. Tea sounds perfect.

A few hours later, relaxation has settled in. It’s a nice night, after all, nicer than Paul would’ve thought. He smiles at Linda. She knew, of course.

“Oh, this you have to see. It’s fantastic.” John tunes up the volume on the television set, and Paul tries to focus on the screen.

Some lad is talking, and Paul hears his name mentioned. Is this Lorne Michaels saying something about being on his show?

“3000 dollars,” the man on the television says. “All you have to do is sing three Beatles’ tunes.” 

John starts howling. “Bloody fantastic!” he shouts and jumps up from the sofa. Paul hasn’t seen him this alert in years.

“Come on, Macca. Let’s go. Let’s do this!”

Paul chuckles. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe. Who cares? Let’s go there and spread insanity all over America!” He sits down next to Paul and starts nudging him. “Come on, Paulie. Just think. Think of these faces. People will flip.”

“Well,” he says, “it would be a blast.”

“Yes! Let’s do this. You and me, Paul, you and me.”

Paul looks over to John and suddenly, there is this moment. Paul can feel the connection, there, there, so close, so damn close. He wants to reach out, hold onto it. He can tell by John’s look that he’s feeling it, too, and it’s so powerful and strong, it’s overwhelming. A bit too overwhelming, maybe.

“Ah well,” John breaks the moment and flops down onto the sofa. “Too much of a hassle getting out there now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Paul yawns. “Too much of a hassle.” 

~~~

_You’re in the television studio. John is with you, and you’re sitting next to the desk of that Lorne Michaels guy._

_“They’re here, ladies and gentlemen,” Lorne announces, “may I present: John Lennon and Paul McCartney, reunited for the first time in years!”_

_There’s cheering and clapping, and John waves into the camera._

_“Well, hullo Lorne, it’s nice to be here,” he says._

_“Nice to have you here, John. So, what have you two been up to? How come you’re together again?”_

_“Oh well, you know,” John says. “We couldn’t stand being apart. Now, the same old, same old has returned. Writing songs, touring cities, shagging each other.”_

_“Shagging?”_

_You frown. What the fuck is John talking about? You haven’t written anything together in years, and there certainly wasn’t any shagging, and why is he telling all that to some guy on television?_

_“Actually,” you say, “we stopped doing that a long time ago.”_

_“Writing songs?” Lorne inquires._

_“Shagging,” you answer._

_Why did you just say that?_

_Lorne frowns. Only, it isn’t Lorne Michaels sittting on the desk anymore. It’s George Martin now. Wow, you think, when did George get his own television show, how weird is that?_

_“Why did you ever stop? You could’ve had it all,” George asks, and you shrug._

_“All I know is that I regret it,” is what you eventually say._

~~~

Paul awakes with a guilty feeling of having betrayed Linda yet again. He knows it’s a silly thing to think, it was just a dream, after all.

He decides not to see John for a while. 

 

**#8**

The day John is shot is the worst nightmare Paul could ever imagine. He doesn’t know how he makes it through that day. And when he finally gets a chance to rest, his heart is racing so fast, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to sleep again.

But he is.

~~~

_John is standing in front of you, not very far away, and you’re so relieved to see him well and alive, you have to blink some tears away._

_“John,” you say, and try to walk towards him, to close that gap between you, but you’re not moving. At the same time, John seems to be moving by his own, floating almost, away from you._

_“No!” you scream, and try to catch up with him. But you’re stuck._

_“No, John! Stay! Wait for me!”_

_You try and try, you see him slipping away, staring at you, confused, helpless._

_And then he’s gone, leaving you all alone._

~~~

Paul awakes crying, waking Linda with his uncontrolled sobs. She tries to comfort him for a while, but right in this moment, there is no comfort for Paul. 

 

**#9 Dream**

It isn’t any special day. It isn’t going to be a special night. It’s just another random day in the life of Paul McCartney, who feels old and lonely more often than he ever used to. Too many people have long since left him, too many tears have been cried.

Paul tries not to think about the past too often. Because if he does, he is always remembered of too many words unsaid, too many questions unanswered.

He wishes he’d smile more. But most of the people who used to make him smile aren’t around anymore.

~~~

_John looks young, very young, he looks like he’s in his early twenties. But once he starts speaking, he talks with his older voice, and you wonder what this is all about._

_“Come,” John says. “Sit with me.”_

_Only now can you see John sitting on some kind of white step, a low pedestal maybe. Everything is white: the room or space you’re in, John’s clothes, even you are dressed in white._

_You walk over to him, your knees feel a bit wobbly, and you’re afraid you might fall down. John notices and laughs at you. Just the sound of it, of hearing that laugh again, makes you tingle._

_You finally make it and sit down next to him. “And now?” you ask, not daring to say more. You don’t want to destroy that moment, you don’t want to lose him again._

_“Paul. We’re good. We always were.”_

_“Yeah,” you say, still afraid to do the wrong thing._

_“It’s alright, Paul, it is. Don’t be so hard on yourself. There is no need to.”_

_But there is, you think. You sigh. You feel like telling him so many things, you don’t even know where to start. He helps you out by taking over. Just like he always did, back when…_

_“You once asked me how I knew, remember? In another night like this.”_

_“I did?” You’re not sure you remember. You don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore._

_“Yes, you did. I never answered you. The thing is: I always knew, Paul. I knew all along. You never had to tell me anything. I always knew. And I always knew that you knew as well. That’s what made us so special. That what makes us so special. Just never doubt it again.”_

_The relief you feel is almost palpable._

_“I love you,” he says. You don’t answer, because now you know you don’t have to._

~~~

Paul awakes with a smile.


End file.
